That Which Lies Between Pride and Fate

                Rough. 1/8 complete
        C&C of any sort welcomed. Intelligent C&C preferred

Author's Ramble
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For those of you dedicated FFMLer's out there, you may remember a spam-fic that I posted dealing with an original concept for a Sailor Moon-Ranma 1/2 crossover. Sadly, nobody was interested enough to bother writing it. Because of that I couldn't get the bloody idea out of my head so I finally gave in and decided to write it. Ignorance of complete ignorance of the Sailor Moon series be damned (The only episode of SM I've seen was the first). Severe alterations to the SM universe have been made (read: Assume anything that doesn't fit the SM enviorment was changed by an altered reality of some sort) as well as basic power levels. To start with, the scouts and such are about three to four times more powerful then Ranma if not more. And.. well the rest of them I'm sure those of you who follow the series will notice. Feel free to e-mail suggestions, comments, whatever. I'm attempting to make this my best work yet so everything's helpful. Oh yeah, one last note. Assume the wedding incident had a rather serious aftermath. That said, enjoy
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    Life is a collection of uncertainties and assumptions. Hand in hand they drag the unwilling participant down the ever winding road of fate till all resistance is gone and, of their own volition, they step into the void. Along this road are distractions. Many beautiful forms, feelings, and expressions, tantalizing lapses from the endless monotony of the gray path which they stride. Love's green stem may appear, naive in it's early growth. Bearing it's frail bud which may bloom, with time, into a red flower, capturing the soul of the weary walker and ripping the pained gaze from the road to that of this new ever mysterious temptation.

    Let us, however, not limit our perception of this gray expanse. There is no light without dark, nor does crimson love lack it's own counterpart of blackest hate. As it's better half, this flower waylays those traveling the road, continuing with them until finally discarded. The black, silken petals catch the eye, as does it pleasing scent to the nose. It gives an energy to the beholder, a fevered passion only matched by it's sister's gift of the same to her patrons.

    Once again, let us not prejudice ourselves with unbound assumptions and false logic. Hate and love are not in contrast to each other, far from it, rather they are each part of a whole, a whole which embodies every aspect of human feeling and existence. They compliment each other, make one another whole. For that brightest red flower is most vulnerable, and when stricken, dies, only to re-emerge colored as the blackest ash. Likewise, the unadulterated midnight of the black flower may be broken by a single spot of red but a shade different then it's previous incarnation.

    The two are one in the same, as they are in the human soul.



    The afternoon sun shone upon Furiken High School, it's merry light giving an air of mischief and fun to the populace. The trees whispered to themselves, gently rustling their budding branches in both amusement and irritation at the many who walked about below them. For a long while it was feared that these simple things would be gone, never to return to some. A single ceremony which should have been joyous had been turned, through both the greed and nativity of one, into one of anger and violence, an event which would echo the blasphemous intrusion across this district called Nerima.

    It could be felt in the neighborhoods, where people spoke in hushed tones about those who had felt the atrocity most keenly, in the way the groups would disperse and sweat nervously under the gaze of a young man who's pain was thought to be secondary, if not mythical, and who's braided hair marked him as clearly as a burning sign. It could be felt as one ate, the normally succulent food turned bland and empty. In the face of the new chief, who's role in the matter was indirect yet still held a similar sharpness. It could be seen on the sorrowful face of the girl passing on her bike, hindsight and understanding having come, yet again, far too late. Life was steeped in the poison of anger, helplessness, and pity.

    Then, as if ushered in by the promise of a soon coming spring, came hope, and with it a flurry of forgiveness. Rekindled fires of friendships and the bright burning flames of the newly formed appeared, eating away at the hollow despair which had taken root so deeply in their heart of hearts. Spring appeared in full strength, giving not only the plants the power for rebirth and new beginnings, but also the people who had been so dormant in the soul's winter.

    For two a husk of fear had been shed, unmasking a mutual love and need which, although painful to others, would bring about a catharsis and halt the would be tragedy of love stringed deaths. So it would have been, so it should have been.

    But fate, that cruel and unrelenting master, knows no sympathy nor emotion, nor pride, nor hate, nor fear, nor death. It knows the way, and is the way. The way which must be followed, for it was crafted by free-will.


    Of those many aforementioned new beginnings, one in particular is most strongly relevant to our tale at this time. A new beginning which brought a master artisan from her self-induced hermitage back into the world, seeking after that which she thought was lost from her forever. It had not come without cost, nor without pain, but she would have sacrificed far more to be welcomed once more into the sight of her love. For her to call him anything less would belittle her feelings, burned and bent from their innocent beginnings into mature and sadistically truthful ones. Yet, I stray from our current focus.

    She drew a hand, once strong and sure, to her pale face, brushing aside her short brown hair. A gift madness had left her. Hazel eyes beheld the source of her hopes and anguish, rejoicing in the sight of his face devoid of the wrath it once held. The bright smile faltered for a moment, for she beheld a mirror expression on the face of her rival who was sitting painfully close to her beloved. Such happiness radiated from them as to return madness from it's brief sojourn.

    "I know this must hurt Ukyo-san, however there is something more important." The voice came drifting from the ground, a voice which set the woman's teeth on edge as much as it's unnatural owner who, at this moment, need not be discussed.

    "Yeah, I know." Turning her head away from the loving couple, and thus the pain it caused, she looked to the self proclaimed guardian. "That's her."

    Contrary to popular thought, silence was not golden. Or at least in the mind of Ukyo Kounji it wasn't. Rather it was a deep rust color, one which, when broken, unleashed whatever force currently wished to oppress her. The long silence of a distraught father, unable to tell his daughter her fiancee had stolen her dowry and ran. The silence in which old emotions swiftly rise up and shatter the shell of hate. The silence when one finds they're greatest rival to be one who must become a vital comrade with who there can be no enmity nor anger.

    "Ukyo-san? Did you hear me?"

    She rose her head from it's bowed position, forcing liquid crystal and emotion away. Emotions were a catalyst for action, if the emotions were controlled then the actions were as well. "Yes, I heard you, sugar."

    "We must speak with her immediately!" The voice shook with excitement, years of searching having finally paid off at the time of greatest need.

    "Not now. After school." Ukyo stood, casting off the burning flashes of anger and sadness, and walked away.

    "But- Ukyo-san, wait!"


    Time passed, as time tends to do, and shrill ringing announced the release of students from their daily prison. Along with this release came the two most vital to our tale. One clad in Chinese clothing, a small but acceptable rebellion against dress code, the other in a much less unusual dress and blouse worn by all female students.

    They walked hand in hand, the boy still ever so slightly nervous even after several weeks of doing so, along the road to their home. To be technically correct, it was rather the home which they each lived in but were to eventually inherent. And to avoid any confusion on the reader's part, each had a separate room (much to their parent's despair). No words, for separate and distinct reasons, were spoken as they walked along. The boy spoke not for he had a habit of speaking clumsily and often aggravating the listener through that clumsiness. The girl on the other hand felt no need to speak and was sincerely enjoying the moment.

    "Ranma!" A voice thick with accent pierced the air, drawing the heads of the couple in it's direction. There was a squeal as the rubber wheels of a bike attempted to go from fast to stop.

    "Heya Shampoo." Said the boy. Not unkindly, but not too happily either. Through painful lessons he had learned greeting another girl too enthusiastically would result in harsh glares or worse from his current companion.

    The woman jumped off the bike. She, similar to a one introduced a short while ago, had attained her adult status through the pain of unrequited love. While she had not faced madness, she had seen her greatest fear come within inches of claiming her. Also like her new friend, she had endured, and by doing so had re-established her place in life both physically and mentally. "Ranma, you and Akane come by later. Great-grandmother want speak about training."

    The boy's eyes gleamed as the thought of his ever lasting hunger being sated, even for a short while. "We'll be there!" This said with a vehemence and finality to it that rarely arose in him.

    The purple haired woman nodded and smiled to her beloved. "Good. See you!" She waved and took off the way she had came.

    The story of this woman, who's part in our tale is tragically brief, is unusual by most standards. She was birthed in China at a remote amazon village which lay close by a set of, now infamous, cursed springs. Raised as a warrior she flourished, growing in her skill day by day. She was popular among the males, although only one showed such interest in any obvious way. Her life had a general upward spiral to it. A clandesence which polished her personality and confidence to a peak level where she believed herself to be the best of her generation. This illusion was brought tumbling down one day, leaving her in shock and finally heading off to Japan. There she met the love of her life, and took part in the atrocity which formed a regret and sadness which would hue the remainder of her life a deep blue. Yet, my heart fails me and I cannot bring myself, at this time, to speak of her demise.

    Instead, allow us to turn our sights back to the couple, and the ones watching them. Among the watchers, of which there were two, one form was clearly recognizable as Ukyo Kounji, whose unevenly sheared brown hair made her all the more noticeable. The other watcher was not immediately apparent to the eye as such. For who suspects an animal body to be capable of harboring intellect?

    "Are you sure?" Came the voice, once again rising a goodly distance before it reached Ukyo's ears.

    "It's the only way we can get her and Ranma apart for a long enough time." Her pale hands clutched at the building for support. Running such a distance at a high speed was no longer an easy task for one who had faced death.

    "Couldn't we just use a norm... Oh, alright I'm going." With an indignant sniff a shape ran from the alleyway and onto the street. Once assured it had full attention of the approaching couple it spoke.

    The pig-tailed boy's face went pale, his body stiffened in fear, his jaw clenched so tightly that one would fear his teeth would chip from the pressure. After a moment of such posture he spoke, or rather yelled, two words. "DEMON CAT!!!" Then he was off, with not so much as a dust trail able to follow him.

    "I'm not a demon." The feline sniffed indignantly.

    "That's enough." The shadows curled forward to accompany a new shape, then once again receded as the sun banished them.

    "Ukyo?" The girl looked confusedly from the black cat to her former rival. "Did that cat just talk?"

    A shimmer of a smile lit Ukyo's face, soon disappearing under the haze of despair once more. "Yeah. But it gets worse."


    There is fear and there is fear. One is true and current, the other in memory of a past circumstance. Both are potent, both are dangerous. The remembrance of fear, however, is the far more dangerous of the two. For Ranma, it was the memory of darkness, of slashing claws, of carnivorous wails, of piercing teeth. With every thought of this fear, it grew. With every sight of that which summoned it, the pain was brought back. The curtain, torn and mended so many times, of his sanity was slowly disintegrating. These, summed up in the words "I'm losing my mind", were the boy's thoughts as he stopped running.

    People on the street barely gave him a glance. The happenings of Nerima had tired it's residents to a level of uncaring and callousness to all but the most severe occurrences. The premiere martial artist running and screaming about a small four-legged pet was not one of them. Although the 'demon' bit was new.


    Youma. A stupid name for a stupid beast. On afterthought, a Youma didn't truly count as a beast. It was more of a demon, albeit a weaker form of demon, but a demon nonetheless. They could be accredited with interesting forms attack though. The primary move in any situation seemed to be possession. Basically, it involved grabbing hold of the nearest human who ran some form of business then using that body to draw out the energy of the patrons. Take a diner for example. Now if the owner happened to be much stronger then the average human, and was taken by surprise, then a perfect host was produced. If the host was strong enough there wouldn't even be a need to change out of the body to fight. Not that such a need would arise of course.


    "What?" A deadpanning voice, the voice of disbelief.

    Ukyo sighed and leaned against a nearby building. "Come on Akane, after everything we've seen is it that hard to believe? Magical defenders of Earth-"

    "The solar system." Corrected the snowy cat.

    "-compared to a cursed boy who turns into a girl when splashed with water." The fabric of her shirt made a soft rubbing sound as she slid down the wall into sitting position. "Same old stuff."

    To understand the chosen fiancee's current feelings was not a difficult task. She was always one who wished to prove her own strength, so overshadowed by that of her beloved's, and ability. However, given the chance with the ever overwhelming weight of responsibility and duty, she gave pause. A trait which would prove to be wisdom's seed.

    "It's not like you have a choice, Akane." Ukyo rose her lily-pale and gently rubbed at he eyes. "Do you really think I give a damn about the world anymore?"

    This deterrent from her normal form of speech caused Akane to look closely at her, assumed, friend. "Are you okay?" Through secondhand knowledge, curtsy of her betrothed, she had heard Ukyo was doing badly for a period of time. She had thought it over with though. Ukyo Kounji had never been one to dine with cynicism.

    "Am I okay?" Windows to the soul revealed sadness therein. "Yeah. I'm just peachy." Remembered visions of flashing knives and liquid crimson flickered through her mind accompanied by mocking laughter.

    The feline decided to make it's presence known again. "As Ukyo-san was saying, it is your duty. I can't force it on you, but I believe you will see the light on your own." The cat backflipped, surprising the hesitant hero. "That" A paw battled at a broach. "Is how you transform."

    "Transform?" Bending at the knees, she retrieved the object. The fantasy of playing super hero that lay ever dormant in most minds easily springs to life when such an opportunity makes itself apparent.

    Ukyo stood with a grace reminiscent of her training. Raising a strange looking stick and mouthing words of ancient origin. Light enveloped her. When it cleared away, Ukyo stood clad in a short green miniskirt which threatened to become indecent at any moment the light-fingered wind took an interest in it. The skirt was joined to a leotard looking blouse with cut arms and green trim. A large bow in pink ribbon was positioned just above her breasts, nestling a jade jewel in the center. Lastly, a pair of long white gloves (also trimmed in green) and small green shoes, which only sharpened the attention on her long slim legs, completed the ensemble. The effect was stunning. Her pale, nearly white skin gave a gentle contrast to the green of her uniform. Her figure, shown in unflinching truth thanks to the skin-tight cling of the clothing, appeared impossibly petite. Brown, uneven hair curled lovingly around her bare neck, giving a slightly wild look. One could mistake the lovely figure for an elf if pointed ears were to be found.

    "Ukyo?" The human bystander breathed in wonder. The change was nearly angelic in nature, but at the same time horrific in it's revelations. The latter thankfully, or perhaps not so, would only make itself apparent at a later time. When the eye looks for beauty, it will rarely permit itself to see the foil.

    "Sailor Jupiter." Corrected the talking quadruped. "You must learn never to say the real name of any the sailor scouts.. assuming we find the rest." The last was said under her breath as most perilous or forbidding suffixes tend to.

    "Sailor? Like the sea kind?" Akane blinked in confusion.

    "Not exactly. Each planet has it's own protector. She is Sailor Jupiter. There is also a sailor for Mars, Mercury, Venus, and several others."

    "And I'm one of these.. Sailors?"

    "Yes. You are Sailor Moon."

    "The moon." She was less then thrilled.

    Luna bristled, arching her back slightly. "Do not speak about it like! It is a great honor, Sailor Moon's strength is nearly unequaled!"

    "But.. the moon? It's so boring."

    A cat scowl presented itself to Akane. "Regardless of which, you are Sailor Moon. This area seems deserted enough why don't you try it on."

    "Is it like hers?" Fear of embarrassment is a very powerful force in any situation.


    To most evil is a status, a state of mind, or a philosophical term. To others it is a stench. Those with the right training can taste it in the air, feel it in their soul. Crossing into the confines of the Nekohaten Shampoo tasted it, and thus became the first of fate's victims. Her eyes turned hard as she surveyed the mess. All through the restaurant people lay crumpled in their seats or sprawled on the floor. As far as she could tell, they were only unconscious. Spoons lay gripped in their hands nine out of ten times, perhaps a final reflex action before whatever happened to them. "Great-Grandmother?" She would be able to explain what happened.

    The old woman stepped from the shadows, and they followed her. Through them a small, familiar shape could be seen. Her short form was standing laxly, a confidence in her ability to counter whatever happened to guard her path. There was a difference though, it was tinged with an arrogance and a scathing glare which insulted all under it's gaze. The stench of evil flowed from her in waves. "Hello there child." Said a voice, dripping in the false kindness of the candy offering stranger.

    "G-grandmother?" The purple haired beauty took a stumbling step backwards. Possession was the only explanation. And it wasn't "nice" like the oni Ranma had fought. Large spherical weapons slid from unknown areas and smoothly into her hands. She assumed a fighting position, one knee drawn up in the air and a bonbori pointed at her possessed family member. "You not Great-grandmother!"

    "Of course I am dear child, why don't we sit down and talk over a bowl of soup? I can explain everything." The voice began to brake into a raspy growl.

    Battle cry echoing from wall to wall Shampoo attacked.


    The aluiriphobic boy sighed and looked around him. His amazon friend, and her Great-Grandmother's restaurant was nearby. He walked through the streets, idly noticing the setting sun. It is one of the unappreciated things in life, the setting sun that is. Sunrise, the beautiful birth of light to the world, is time and time again honored in for it's magnificence. Deemed as a good omen. But does not it's death deserve equal worship? The slowly darkening light grasping onto the clouds as if to prevent it's decent, coloring the sky with it's cries of desperation and despair. Then, slowly the grip loses hold and the sun slips lower, it's death cry unnoticed by former admirers. With bare minutes remaining in it's life the current martyr bled the sky crimson.

    Ranma paused and looked about him. The world had become a light shade of red, creating a very surreal environment. Nothing was clear anymore, instead it was faded about the edges. Caught up in wonder and awe he stood for a moment, realizing the beauty of the Lightgiver's death. He looked at the sun, and for once in his life gave himself up to the moment. Closed eyes stared at the burning ball, relishing it's warmth. The shadows played tricks across his body. They painted him in shadow blood and scarred his hands and arms with tales of battle, turning the boy into a monster. Behind him, his shadow twisted in the strangle light, growing jagged and skewed until it seemed more a living demon then a shadow. The pockets of darkness coalesced through his closed eyes, the warmth faded, then with a final moment of soothsaying the light returned to normal and the setting sun continued it's decent.

    Ranma took a shuddering breath, it was those moments he lived for. A moment of clarity, of absolute perfection, a moment where he was God. These were few and far in-between, leaving no memory when they were gone save the euphoric memory and an intense desire. The Art brought him this on a lower level, it was his addiction. Smiling he started walking to the Nekohanten.



    Rose colored embarrassment crept up Akane's face. "I knew it! I look horrible!" She hid her face behind her hands. In all reality, she was far from horrible looking. She didn't possess the grace and delicate beauty Ukyo embodied, however her own form was appealing in it's own way. She was far from chubby or fat, her morning jogs combined with small doses of The Art saw to that, instead being smoothly muscled. There was a sturdiness to her, a solidity. It was not overwhelming as one who worked with weights and things of metal, rather it was a subtle strength given by The Art. Her own uniform was, much similar to Ukyo's, akin to a school uniform suffering from material loss. However, instead of a green skirt hers was a deep blue color. Her bow was red, as was the trimming about her gloves, and there was a small golden sphere held in the center of the ribbon, just another variation of the one described before. There was but one distinguishing trait. A golden tiara, somewhat hidden by her short black hair.

    The black feline looked at Akane as if judging. After a short period of she nodded. "You look wonderful Akane-san." She was no frail beauty that needed protecting. She was instead a candle in the darkness. One who's appearance that was both charming and steadfast would sturden resolve in her followers. She would be a splendid leader. If only she would stop cringing.

    The candle paused, unhiding herself. "Really?" She looked down at her legs, then the rest of her body. Ever doubting is the female mind, until given firm reason to believe otherwise. "You sure? I don't look... stupid?" she was sure Ranma would take one look at her and burst into laughter.

    "No. You look good Akane. Like you were always supposed to be like that. Strong, pretty. It's you." Ukyo spoke up again, any emotions lost beneath the one of loyalty towards this figure. After several moments the feeling resided and she damned herself for it.

    Akane basked in the compliments, blushing slightly. A cold feeling snaked itself about her heart and tugged.

    "What's the matter?" The unnatural animal asked, seeing her turn pale.

    "I don't know.. just a feeling. Something bad happening. It's over there!" She pointed then started running in the same direction, soon taking to the roofs for a faster route.


    Shampoo stumbled back, needing space to catch her breath. Whatever had possessed her Grandmother was pathetic from a technical point of view. It's movements were predictable, it's style was non-existent. It couldn't dodge to save it's life. Yet she could find no way to defeat it. Every predictable movement was done at incredible speed and with tearing strength. Every landed blow was shrugged off, seemingly having no effect whatsoever. She had to knock her grandmother's physical body unconscious, then she would be able to concentrate on exorcising the demon. Tightening a hand about her remaining bonbori Shampoo leapt to the attack again.

    When one is at death's gates, the only option remaining is aggression.


    Energy flowed through her veins, power the likes she had never dreamt of in her life. It pronounced her every move, strengthening it, accelerating it. She was moving swifter then she ever had before, stronger. She could take on every martial artist in Nerima and not lose her breath. It was ecstasy.

    But below that, overcoming the desire to run with the flow of power, was the sense of peril. Of evil. She didn't know her destination, only knew it's direction. She spared a glance back as she leapt from roof to roof. Sailor Jupiter followed her closely, seeming to have no trouble keeping pace. Tucked under one arm she carried the black cat. A scream of pain carried in the air. Frowning with worry Akane increased her speed.


    Ranma was approaching the restaurant when his senses started going berserk. Something was very, very wrong. The retreating sunlight reinforced echoed his worry, reinforcing his worry. Evil. Strong evil. Eyes scanned about him and he slowed his pace. It was nearby, it leaned over his shoulder, breathed on his neck then was gone the next moment. Close, very close. A blue shimmer erected itself around him as he slowly began to gather his power. A cry of pain came from the restaurant and Ranma had his source.


    Oft has Ranma been referred to as a boy throughout our tale. This statement, in itself, is not entirely accurate. In consideration of his skills he is no boy, for he has spent his life training himself developing and proving said skills in combat time and time again. In the area of mental anguish he is not a boy, for he has dealt with situations enough to drive any lesser man insane. The area that he is yet a child in, is that of love. He loves a young child does. Showing this love in taunts, light jests, sometimes even fighting. This is, admittedly, not entirely his fault. A lifetime spent in the woods without the ability to meet a potential partner, much less find time to grow in knowledge and experience, does not equip one to face certain situations. Situations such as multiple fiancees. So it is not out of happenstance he is referred to as this, it is because therein lies the heart of the matter.

    "You are weak, but your screams shake the very walls." The youma's voice had lost all it's resemblance to that of its host's. It's harshness tore at Shampoo's heart.

    She sprawled on the floor. Purple hair tangled and blooded, lying in a mess underneath her injured body. Moaning Shampoo forced herself up once more, using an nearby wall for support, the carefully painted surface dipped red by her hand. She looked up at the beast and knew disappear. Her inadequacy in the art which led her to Ranma would seemingly be her death now. A fitting scenario in the eye of the rose.

    "If you had only ate your soup like a good girl." The Youma cackled, enjoying it's own attempted humor.

    Lilac eyes shimmered with tears, their vibrant color led into chaotic, futile motions about the room. Escape from one who hid within others, lowest of the low. Shampoo cursed her own cowardess.

    Metallic laughter filled the air, scraping against her supple skin like a razor. "This is what I live for! Cower! Fear! Let me hear you scream!" It bent down, grasping Shampoo's arm. Raising it's eyes to hers, full intent was conveyed. She struggled not, for her energy to do so was gone. A wet braking sound, like a piece of chewed egg-shell, then white bone punctured smooth skin at the elbow. A geyser of red poured forth, flowing about the now red bone in a hideous dance. Again came the sound, from just below her wrist. With another twist the bone surfaced, breathing in copper water at it's release.

    "Mmph." Her eyes closed tightly and her jaw clenched in on itself. She would not give into the beast.

    "Mmmmppphhhh." It repeated mockingly. Placing its hand around the now unanchored bone it twisted viscously.

    A high pitched squeak made it's way through Shampoo's mouth as muscle tore from bone.

    "Scream!" Another twist. "Scream!" And another. "Scream!!" With a final heave the bone came completely free from her arm.

    Her body no longer being held up, Shampoo collapsed against the ground. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing shallow and empty of point. Her eyes snapped open, pain and fear shining like a beacon. She inhaled a deep breath and gave a soul tearing cry of pain and plea for help in the form of her beloved's name.


    Ranma's felt his heart clench in his chest at his name carried cross the district. The restaurant door gave under his rush like so many splinters even as he cursed himself for not being faster. The sight inside nearly made him mis-step. "NO!" His voice did not carry the power to halt time.

    A wooden staff pierced through Shampoo's chest.

    He leapt from the ground and impacted against her assailant full force, knocking it into the far wall. "Shampoo.." Eyes filled with concern, he gently gathered her into his arms.

    "Airen.." A dreamy small broke across her face. She knew she was at an end. "You came, Airen."

    Her happy gaze held him fast, unable to look elsewhere and unable to move.

    "My Airen." Using her working arm she gently raised a hand and caressed his cheek, trying to remember him at this moment. Her body shivered for a moment, then ceased. Unable to perform even this simple action.

    Bending his head Ranma met Shampoo's lips in his own. He knew no other way to make her passage easier.

    What had always been denied in life was given freely in death. Such was fate. "I love you, Airen." The words were less then whispers. A small tilt of her head put her lips to his one last time. She breathed her last.

    The metallic laughter struck again. "Humans! Weak! Weak!" It sneered at Ranma. "You won't catch me off guard again. Weak!"

    The Amazon's last breath stirred in his lungs, exciting a fire he'd never tapped before. An energy who's existence was unknown even though it sheltered within his own body. Uncaring, he drew from it. Letting it feed him, fill him, he cloaked himself in it. And with this cloak came the anger. The pinnacle of hate and anger he had felt when he realized Shampoo had died stretched over him, no longer a thing of such intensity that it could not be sustained but a thing which sustained because of it's intensity. Rage given voice shouted, power surged. In motions he would later not remember the hands twisted, a art dead given it's resurrection for a brief moment.

    The ki attack was unlike anything he had ever done before. A solid red sphere in the middle, only inches wide, surrounded by lacy twilight colored darkness. It moved swiftly to it's target, hitting it full in the chest then devouring all caught within that darkness. It was over in moments.

    Solid red rage, torn black hate.

    Staggering a step back, Ranma recovered. He turned to face Shampoo's soul befret corpse, and in the process caught sight of two in something akin to schoolgirl uniforms. "Go away." His voice made them flinch somewhat.

    "Ranma, I just-" Began the one in the blue skirt, reaching a hand toward him.

    "I SAID LEAVE!" His hand slashed through the air in front of him as a visible warning.

    "R-ranma.. It's me. Akane." A wounded tone.

    He peered at her intently. "Akane?" He shook his head. Of course it was Akane. "Sorry." He bent down and began cradling Shampoo's broken body again, numb feelings returned full force. "I'm sorry." He repeated, this time he reached his words toward the kami's realm. Fight over, anger gone, pain rushed in. Drawing a shuddering breath he clutched the body to him as if to bring her back. "I wasn't fast enough, I didn't even think.. Shampoo.." Raising her limp head as a puppeteer he touched it to his own. Tears dropped from his closed eyes onto hers, then rolling off her ever beautiful face and onto the floor. The sight of which making one question who was truly mourning for whom.

    Hesitant steps toward her fiancee were halted by Sailor Jupiter�s pale hand, now made firm and strong by the magic flowing through her veins. "Not yet." Grief was a familiar box to Ukyo, for she had escaped from it more times then she cared to recall.

    For a moment it seemed Akane would argue, but no such protest rose from her lips. Unable to look at the scene before her any longer she walked outside, barely noting the destroyed entrance.

    The feline was waiting. "I'm sorry, was she a friend?"

    Akane paused, the question braking through the numbness that had began to grow. "I.. She..." A moment of consideration. "Yes."

    Behind her back Ukyo felt anger rise within her. She had not been Shampoo's friend. Shampoo was an acquaintance, a rival, but not a friend. She had been the chief's friend though. Dumb with shock and grief they had manage to find a bit of peace in each others company, the knowledge that they alone had not suffered grief at the decision of Ranma. Together they had returned from their separate trials, able to live once more. Together they had rejoiced at the forgiveness which restored some of that which was lost. But no more. She bit her bottom lip as her vision blurred.

    Akane looked over her shoulder and saw Ranma still holding Shampoo. Bile forced it's way up her throat at the sight of her ruined arm. She turned away, the sight bringing back numbness. It was hard to believe. Shampoo was dead.

    Luna would have given a sigh of relief if such a thing were possible. She had feared that this would heavily impact the will of her charges fighting ability; either leading them into blind anger while fighting or, worse yet, retreat into themselves and the deny their responsibilities. She glanced up at Ukyo again. She wore an expressionless look upon her face, causing reconsideration upon Luna's former thought. "Ukyo-san, are you going to be all right?" It was blunt, but it was likely to get a rise of anger from her or some other emotion that may give the watcher a hint as to the emotions boiling underneath.

    "No." A single word, no tone in the voice.

    Akane, shaken out of her funk by the voice, shared a look with Luna for a short while but returned her attention back to Ukyo. There had been a small glimmer of light and Now Ukyo stood as herself once more, Sailor Jupiter returned to her place of waiting.

    "Akane you should do the same."


    Splinters of the doorway crackled and snapped underneath Ukyo's steps. She continued falteringly, stumbling under the effort needed to continue towards solace. Ironically, in order to reach that solace meant facing, once more, misery's cause. Tear veiled eyes failed to hold out the shattered shell, still clutched in arms strong and warm. With a small sob of pain she fell against him, arms linking about his neck and face pressed against his muscled back.

    "Ukyo?" Ranma looked over his shoulder, pain filled eyes clearing. "When did you get..." He trailed the meaningless question into nothing. He clenched his eyes then gently lay down the Amazon's corpse. He touched a hand to one of the lily arms about his body, slowly turning in the desperate embrace.

    "She's dead." Ukyo cried into his shirt, tears mixing with blood and lightening the dark stains.

    His arms easily encircled her frail form. "I know." He bowed his head. "I know."

    Sobs continued, growing harder. "Why?" She abandoned all attempts to hold herself upright, relying solely on the form clutched in her arms for support. She felt him bend then she was lifted, arms under her knees and her back. Like a bride in the arms of her groom.

    "Let's take you home." Tragedy and hurt has strange effects on people. For Ranma, not surprising if one considered his childhood, it brought about a clarity of mind and decisiveness. At least when others he cared for needed him. Later on, when alone with his thoughts, emotions would run rampant until he would manage to force them away.


    Ukyo dim state of awareness sharpened as His arms released her. A sharp cry of protest broke the silence of the room and she struggled to maintain her hold on him.

    "Ucchan, it's alright. You're home." Ranma gently pulled his arm away from her. The still frightened look in her eyes bought a reassuring smile from him. "Really, it's okay. Look around you."

    Heavy breathing slowly settled and Ukyo calmed down as her mind and body slowly gave into emotional exhaustion. Silence crept into the room, stealing the voices of both persons. The blankets shivered with movement as the intangible chill inside their grasp failed to warm.

    With a movement filled with concern and dread Ranma bent low and lightly grasped her shoulder, calling attention to himself. "Ucchan..." Though desperate straits may give an air of confidence and responsibility, it cannot fill the void which only experience must fill.

    While not able to summon a smile, his clumsy attempt to lend support met it's objective.  Ukyo's eyes were pain-filled, but she was no longer dumb-stricken by grief. "Thank you." She gently rubbed her cheek against his hand. To be able to gather even a small amount of sustenance or courage from such a thing may seem merely romanticizing and futile, and Ukyo was well aware of this. Even moreso because she had come to understand and, perhaps, accept that he was one who was beyond receiving love from, his heart having been taken. These things not withstanding, she did in fact gather strength from the action.

    Not quite knowing how to react to the action Ranma gently withdrew his hand. Ukyo looked up at him with a long suffering expression. "I.." The need to return to his home and check on his fiancee was a priority, however one that was nearly equal was that of making sure his life-long friend would be out of danger, both emotional and self induced.

    "I know." Her voice had returned to that of a whisper. "Go on, I'll be fine."

    His jaw clenched tightly. "I'll be back early tomorrow." Blood oath conviction given out swiftly and sincerely.

    Ukyo said nothing for a short while, merely looking at him. Then she gently nodded her head and snuggled into the blankets and awaited the mindlessness of sleep.


    "Who the devil was that?!"

    "A human, my queen."

    "Idiot! Tell me something I don't know."

    "I have no answer my queen, merely a guess." A pause. "I believe that he is a warrior of his kind. There were such people before who also possessed similar abilities."

    "All books and scrolls with such knowledge was collected and is in our possession."

    "What one man has created, another may create again. The form used was primitive at best when compared to the fighters which you destroyed."

    "Is he a threat?"

    "No. The Youma was the weakest I could find. It was a way to 'test the waters' if you will."

    "Energy is not to be wasted, but you have done well this time. What else did you learn?"

    "Sailor Moon and Sailor Jupiter have returned."

    A sharp intake of breath. "And the others?"

    "None appeared."

    "All is well then. But a small threat may become large, do not foddle with precious energy anymore."

    "Yes, my queen."



    Dawn awoke the two in a tangled mess of limbs. Between the ever volatile sleeping habits of Akane and those of innate dodging and blocking of her bedmate, the two were well caught in a web of blankets, sheets, and each other. Some merriment was found in such a situation as that it grabbed the slow thinking ability of the waking mind, filling it with laughter and mirth. Remembered carnage only seeped in as the questioning of how they came to be in their current situation took place.

    That brief moment of light-heartedness would be the only for the day it seemed. The rest of the Tendo family and Ranma's father had all heard first hand from the belated hero exactly what took place a mere sixteen hours ago. Breakfast was a sober affair, even the ever smiling Kasumi found herself sighing at the death of the bright and happy Shampoo. Alas, not the entire family felt that way. For both Nabiki and Soun it was a sadness over the sadness it had caused Akane. This is not to imply they were inhuman or without feeling, but rather that she was at best an acquaintance to them. Adding to situation, Kasumi, Soun, and Nabiki had all experienced a much more personal death before. Shampoo's death was a gentle grief compared to that loss.

    Unfortunately, or perhaps not, Akane was too young to clearly remember the events at that time, and so this was her first true encounter with life's end. She was a creature of emotions, quick and flighty at all times but with a continue undercurrent that remained true. Thus, the loss of this person whom she had known affected her in a small way in sorrow over the loss of that person but moreso in the manner of which she had been removed. Pain. Blood. Destruction. These themes ran foremost in her mind that day, to be exorcised by the nurturing of family members and dedicated attention from her fiancee.

    At the end of the meal, which came sooner then was the mean as that nobody could stomach it, Ranma left to fulfill a promise to one of his remaining friends.


    Ucchan's held a similar tone as the Tendo household had. Serving it's morning customers with a gloomy atmosphere punctuated by offers of condolences from those who knew Ukyo and the girl had been friends, and the mumbles of gossip mongers. The doors opened, admitting the town's focal point. As if a plug had been pulled, the people paid their dues and drained out of the restaurant. None offered a word to the boy, only glances of pity or condemnation. He was the invincible hero, the white knight. He was always on time, never would such an injustice take place while he was around. Reputation builds as a shell does, oft times by built from the outside to encase the object of that reputation. Woe be to the man who dares to allow its ruin.

    If any of this was noticed by the owner, she failed to remark upon it. "I want to see it again."



    The ex-restaurant looked far worse in the daylight then it had in the night. A burning hole went through the door and out the back wall, as if a firebrand had been thrust through its guts. Sacrilegious dawn smiled it's yellow rays upon the scene, bringing every detail into hideous focus. Not content until the nightmare was held in this clarity, Ukyo crept through the entrance wound with a strong arm supportingly about her waist. The unexpected can be so harsh. Within the scorched cadaver lay not the bare floorboards where the Amazon had breathed her last, but she herself. Broken and battered, blood dried and matted where it lay. With a sharp gasp the twice wounded woman turned into His arms once more. Once she may have been stronger, once pride may have kept her from such an action. Once she had been pure, untouched by the tainted caress of anguish and the warmth of madness.

    Upon further observation, were either one of the teens able to look away from the other, another figure would be noticed. A figure which held it's own private vigil over the broken girl's body. Looking up with tired eyes, the matriarch spoke.

    "I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive." Startled glances from both. "Ranma Saotome, the husband who's heart Shampoo never snared, though not for a lack of trying. I thank you for stopping this before it went further. You probably don't know the full extent of what happened the night before, nor do I feel inclined to tell you all. Just know this, it was not of her own free will Cologne did this to her Grand-daughter. Such things are rare, but it seems evil forces have their fair share of power here in Japan. Were you not to stop her at this point, I can only imagine the carnage that may have ensued. I would not have arrived before this morning and if it were a true demon in possession of her body, the price of her death would have been much higher then a single child." The little woman's shoulders slumped. Reaching in the sleeve of her robe she withdrew a small necklace. "Keep this with you, Ranma Saotome. May it remind you of your failure, and why you must always strive to attain perfection in the art. I know of your exploits and fear that the worst is yet to come. Be good to your chosen wife and protect her. For it appears in Japan, males have strength which the foolish females fail to raise themselves to."

    Ranma caught the thrown necklace easily. Curious at the bristle-like feeling he looked down at it. A blood-soaked lock of Shampoo's hair tied onto a bit of twine. He swallowed. "I will."

    The matriarch sighed and nodded. "Go now. The Amazons will take care of their own."



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